The World Calling
by HeroicWill
Summary: His family was finished and his life as he knew it was over. All he wants now is to fade from the world entirely and into obscurity. Little does he know that the world won't let him go quietly. His story is only just beginning and his rise will become legend, whether he likes it or not. Book One of The Aurelius Saga.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One: The Beginning of the End**_

_**7:30 P.M., 16**__**th**__** of Last Seed, 4E 201**_

_**Location: Pale Pass**_

Skyrim.

Even though he had never been to his other homeland in his short life on Nirn, he could tell he was going to hate it and it wasn't the absurdly freezing weather that the Northern Province provides.

A new life… it was something that he didn't want but needed after… well, everything. He had to get away from it all. He wasn't about to be crucified for something he had nothing to do with. It scarred him to the core, to deny what basically boiled down to who he was, and it would probably continue to affect him for the rest of his life... but it was his only option. That was his only motivation to keep placing one foot in front of the other.

The cold chill that laced the night air didn't affect him as much as he had thought it would. His Nord blood had something to do with that, but he paid it no mind… or at least tried to.

He couldn't stop it. Memories came rushing in of his father training him in the ways of the sword, which would always end in a fit of laughter and a tussling match between him and his father, his mother caring for the often scrape or bruise that he would obtain from his ventures outdoors. More and more fond memories filled his mindscape and he unconsciously stopped…

He shook his head violently and kept moving. He didn't care about that anymore. That life was gone. Only the warmth his wolf skin cloak brought.

The blisters in his feet pained him profusely, but he kept moving. It was all he could do.

The moon illuminated his path, eliminating any need for a torch to light his way until the clouds covered the moon, but by then, he had seen his first settlement.

Two Imperial legionnaires guarded the gate, both garbed in usual guard armor with an Imperial sword identical to his hanging off each of their hips. Their helmets obscured their faces altogether, leaving barely even the eyes to show. It was a strange helm, but he supposed it worked to combat the hostile weather.

He kept up with current events as much as he could and since he knew he was headed to Skyrim, the Civil War was forced into the forethought of his mind. He was a part of the third group that cared nothing for it and wanted no part of it. He wanted to avoid it as much as he could, but it did have its effects on the land… something he was about to encounter.

He fumbled around his knapsack for his coin purse, in preparation to let his money do the persuading for him, but the small sack escaped him. Breathing a silent curse, he steeled himself.

As he approached the wooden gate, the guards' hands shot directly to the handles of their blades, but as he got closer, they relaxed. His eyes narrowed. It was obvious this rebellion had them frantic and scared. The Legion had really lost their spine.

"Halt, traveler. This town is under the Empire's protection. Only citizens of the Empire may enter with proper identification. Let me see it," one of the guards said. It was gonna be easier than he thought.

"Very well," he replied, reaching within his pocket and pulling out a small piece of paper. He unfolded it and handed it to the guard. The guard took it and inspected it for a moment.

"Military and council code…" He paused for a moment before refolding it and handing it back to him. "What brings a member of the Aurelius family northbound?"

Of course he wouldn't know about his family yet. It was a fairly current event after all.

"Personal business, I'm afraid."

The guard hummed. "Private business dealing with the Empire, hm? I understand, young Lord. The Empire needs all the help it can get… we'll open the gate for you. Wait here."

He motioned to his comrade, who pushed on one of the gate's handles. The large gate open just enough for him to slide through.

"Go right in, and enjoy your stay at Helgen, Lord Aurelius."

The man, Aurelius, made his way to the opening and stopped just before he went out of sight. "It's best no one knows I'm here, understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And drop the whole 'Lord' thing."

**-o-O-o-**

_**9:25 P.M., 16**__**th**__** of Last Seed, 4E 201**_

_**Location: Helgen**_

Vesuvius graciously took the gold in exchange for the Nord mead and thanked him for his business, slipping the gold in the chest underneath the bar. It was business as usual for the Imperial.

It was an above average night for him, whether it was the payout, the bard, or the beautiful women that walked in, searching for what may fit their fancy.

It was a habit for him to watch everyone who walked into his little inn. He didn't get the service he used to due to those damn Stormcloaks putting the entirety of Skyrim in a frenzy of fear. The Imperials had Helgen locked up tight and very few ever got to see the inside of the town-turned-fort, but every now and then, there would be a spike in business where more people would pass through than normal.

The Imperial liked those nights. More money for him means more money for women.

The door creaked open again and he turned his head to see his next money grab…

But he wasn't sure if he liked what he saw.

The figure was clearly male, standing tall and lean with his cloak shadowing his entire body. No weapon was obvious on his persona but his cloak did cover his body well. None of that bothered him. That was the usual for most of his customers.

His face was the unsettling part. Vesuvius had seen his fair share of sturdy and square jawed men and the man was no different in that aspect. Short black hair covered his skull, no more than three inches in length and spiked at the top. Not a pinch of facial hair was visible on the man. Clearly military…

None of that bothered him. It was the sapphire eyes that unsettled him.

Vesuvius was very familiar with the "eyes are windows to the soul" thing. His expression gave away nothing but his eyes betrayed everything…

Something had broken the man. They held no conviction, no feeling that a man should have. It was almost like staring into the darkened abyss that was Sithis. There was _nothing_ there. A man like that is will to try anything and has nothing left to lose…

He was headed straight for him…

The Imperial crouched down behind the cover of his bar and scanned the shelf to reassure the presence of his iron sword. Bar fights and robberies rarely occurred at Helgen and everyone knew it, but Vesuvius felt it best to always prepare for the worst.

By the time he looked back up though, the man had already been seated.

He felt his reaction was appropriate.

"Gah!" Vesuvius shouted, jumping back into the shelves behind him. They shook, threatening to throw his various assortments of mead and wine off their resting place. He stood still, gawking at the man before him and praying that his alcoholic beverages did take the tumble. They rattled on for a moment longer before they silenced. He breathed the heaviest sigh.

"Sorry," the man apologized, monotone in his words altogether as if apologizing was just a formality. He probably didn't mean it, but Vesuvius didn't care. He was after his money, not his friendship.

He pushed himself off the shelf, regaining his bearing in the process. "Well… as long as you don't cause me to break any of my wares… anyway, what will you have?"

"A room and some food, preferably grilled and vegetables. No mead. Just water, please," Vesuvius was caught off guard at how swiftly the man had spit out, causing him to pause for a moment.

"A-alright… all of that will be about-"

The dropping of a fairly heavy coin purse dropped on his bar-top. He had never moved faster to grab a coin purse in his life. Dumping out its contents, he counted about a hundred Septims. It was a little more than he charged, but he wasn't complaining. He snapped his head back up only to see the man's back walking away.

"I'll need your name for the room roster, sir…"

He stopped in his tracks for a moment before turning his head to the side and giving him an answer.

"Perseus…"

**-o-O-o-**

_**7:05 A.M., 17**__**th**__** of Last Seed, 4E 201**_

_**Location: Helgen**_

The nightmares never end, it seems.

It had been the same dream since he left Cyrodiil. Perseus had figured they would be bad, but they've only gotten more vivid, more intense since he departed from his home. It was nothing new though. He figured they would come but it didn't stop him from leaving. He had to…

Perseus pushed himself out of his bed and dropped to the ground. It was one of his ways of blotting out anything that would come to his mind. Doing a form of physical work never failed to relieve him of any burdens he was carrying at time, if only temporary.

With his morning routine complete, he grabbed his usual travel garments and his knapsack before securing his sword on his belt. He never stayed at a location for more than a day for the purpose of evasion and the fact that the sooner he got to Windhelm, the better.

Perseus fastened his cloak and made sure it had full body coverage before stepping out the door. The inn was completely barren, not a soul in sight other than the owner, who was shifting around behind the bar.

"Where is everyone?" he asked a little more commanding that he meant to be. The Imperial shot up at his inquiry, his body seizing up for a moment before he relaxed.

"They have an execution going on outside," he asked. "Pretty big deal too, it seems, to steal all my customers…"

It perked his interest for the sake of avoiding any recognition by any Imperial legionnaire that might recognize him. "Who's losing their head?"

"Ulfric Stormcloak and some of his followers… it seems a little too good to be true though… only one way to find out though," the bartender pondered.

Something snapped within him and he knew what. His teeth clenched tight together and his fists followed. A primal growl escaped his lips almost instinctively. He needed to see this.

"I suppose you're right…"

With that, he stepped out the door into the morning air.

**-o-O-o-**

_**8:28 A.M., 17**__**th**__** of Last Seed, 4E 201**_

_**Location: Helgen**_

As soon as he was out the door, Perseus had bumped into someone already. He quickly apologized to the man but he paid him no mind. He was completely distracted by the scene in front of him.

Perseus' vision was obscured by the hordes of people that stood between him and the scene. What the bartender said must've been true for an execution to attract what was basically the whole town. It wasn't until he heard a withered yet stern voice sound.

"Ulfric Stormcloak… some here in Helgen call you a hero…"

Perseus recognized the stern voice and let a silent curse escape.

_What is Tullius doing here?_

He couldn't focus on the why at the moment. He needed to know what and began shifting through the crowd.

A few minutes of shuffling about later and he had finally managed to get to the front of the crowd, leaning on the front of the railing before taking a minute to observe the scene in front of him.

The first thing he noticed was the huge executioner that stood parallel to the priest that was present. The Imperials had a sense of irony, it seemed. The axe in his hand was even bigger than the man himself, but judging from the chipped cutting edge, it had seen better days. He wouldn't be surprised if a fresh steel blade sent it to an overdue retirement.

A couple of Imperial legionnaires stood around the scene, probably on security in case any sympathizers or disguised Stormcloaks decided to interrupt the slaughterhouse.

His eyes fell upon their leader, a gray-haired Imperial garbed in what appeared to be the standard issue general's armor for the Legion. It was Tullius after all…

And the man in front of him was indeed Ulfric Stormcloak.

The Nord looked worse than he had ever seen him look before. His face was bloodied and bruised, no doubt from the pent-up anger of the legionnaires, and his "regal" garments were torn and tattered to pieces with no form of armor to boot.

Good… it'll make killing him easier.

A distant roar broke him from his thoughts, causing him to nearly jump out of his boots in the process. His head followed everyone else's, scanning the skies for the cause of it. Murmuring occurred in the crowd behind him, but they were overshadowed by Tullius' commanding voice.

"It's nothing. Carry on."

An Imperial captain, as made obvious by her steel armor, responded. "Yes, General Tullius!"

Perseus already hated this woman just from the sound of her voice. She turned to the priest. "Give them their last rights."

The priest nodded, stepping in front of the captured Stormcloaks and lifting her hands high.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-"

A brash Stormcloak jutted in. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!"

_Thank you…_

Perseus couldn't decide which of the women's voice was more annoying, but he was grateful of the interruption. The sooner Ulfric loses his head, the better.

The begrudging Stormcloak trudged forward, but Perseus' hate-filled eyes stayed on Ulfric. He had wanted nothing more than to charge forward and shove his blade through his gullet, but he wasn't stupid. He would be taken down before he could reach the Nord.

Ulfric began scanning the crowds. Perseus swore he could see him smirking behind the gag that was tied firmly around his mouth. If he had to go, this was the way he wanted it, it seemed.

Only the gods know what caused the Nord to stop and gaze at Perseus for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition. But why…

It hit him hard.

_My hood…_

He had forgotten to don his hood before leaving the inn. He cursed at his stupidity and quickly donned his hood before relocating himself on the other side of the porch. The sounding of an axe dropping signified the passing of the brave and stupid Stormcloak, and the Imperial captain called again.

"Next, the traitor!"

The roar happened again, only this time it was much less distant and a lot more vicious.

The murmurs were much more frantic this time. Whispers were nonexistent in the crowd's speaking.

"There it is again," he heard a Nord sound. "Did you hear that?"

The captain intensified with her repeated call. "I said _next prisoner_!"

Two legionnaires converged on Ulfric, grabbing him by both arms and kicking him in each calf, causing him to fall forward helplessly. Roughly, they dragged him towards the chopping block before throwing him down remorselessly. The Imperial captain followed them up, stomping his back in to keep him from going anywhere.

Perseus knew he could break out of there and stall himself some time before the axe came down, and he felt like Ulfric knew too, but there was no fight given in return. He watched as the Nord closed his eyes in acceptance.

A tear rolled down Ulfric's cheek. He was _crying_.

The axe was raised up, and for a second, Perseus had a complete one-eighty. He wanted to know why that son of a bitch was shedding tears before his well-deserved death.

In an instant, it seemed like the sun had just vanished and a shadow cloaked the entire town. There was no way the clouds had blocked the sun out as fast as what just occur. He couldn't see from under the roof of the inn but something was causing it and it wasn't the weather…

"What in Oblivion is that?!"

Pitch black claws grasped the watchtower, nearly destroying the entire roof as the owner of the claws perched itself on top.

Time seemed to have frozen. The total blackness of the beast screamed death in every form, sending fear racking throughout his body. The wings' span was unlike anything imagined, like a single flap would blow away a small settlement into Oblivion, and the scales appeared tougher than any form of steel could even scratch, let alone breach. The razor sharp fangs added even more to the fear factor, as they appear as though they could rip the White-Gold Tower in half with hardly any effort.

None of that compared to the blood red eyes that were staring Perseus down like he had ruined his morning breakfast.

_What… in Talos' name is-?_

His answer came sooner than he would've liked.

"DRAGON!"

Not a soul dared moved, out of the unadulterated fear that had taken hold. None of the legionnaires drew swords, including Tullius and his attack dog captain. None of the Stormcloaks attempted escape. Ulfric didn't even move from his submissive position. He could only stare at the dragon that had landed above him.

Perseus wasn't excused from the fear. In fact, he was probably feeling it more than the people around him. The dragon never broke eye contact with Perseus. Those red eyes shrieked death and spoke fear. He had never seen anything like it and was wishing he never had.

He had no idea why the red-eyed beast was staring him down, but he knew one thing he needed to do.

_Run._

The roar that the dragon sung next wasn't like the ones previously. It felt more direct and more powerful, as it seemed as thought the sky shook in its very wake. He swore he could even make out words from it...

The sky darkened as clouds formed over the immediate area. Perseus gazed up, only to see a blazing boulder headed for the inn.

"Move!"

Pieces of wood flew in every direction, forcing the crowd to do the same. Perseus leaped forward with no other plan that to get away from the doomed inn and because of that, he hit the dirt ground hard.

His vision blurred and the breath was knocked away from him. He couldn't tell if it was fear or his lack of will, but what he did know is that a man had grabbed him by his cloak and pulled him him up.

"Kinsman, get up!"

It was one of the captured Stormcloaks. He appeared the stereotypical Nord too.

"The gods won't give us another chance!" He ushered Perseus forward, who stumbled into the building before falling on the stone ground.

He paused for a moment and took a breath before he pushed himself off the ground and regained his bearing.

It seemed he had been ushered into one of the guard towers, considering the circular nature of the structure. He could hear the screams and cries of the people outside, but it paled in comparison to the dragon's terrifying screech.

He couldn't even hear his own thoughts. Looking around, he saw he wasn't the only one with the Stormcloak, or Stormcloaks in this matter.

A few of the civilians had taken shelter in the guard tower as well, cowering against the wall and lacking any knowledge on what to do. Some of the Stormcloaks tended to the civilians while a group of the Nord rebels had huddled around each other in conversation.

"Could the legends be true...?" the man who had saved him questioned out loud. Perseus felt he had known the answer to his own question already. He just didn't want to believe It himself... not that Perseus blamed him.

The question wasn't rhetorical though. A deep, throaty voice answered, laced thick in Nordic accent. Sad thing was he knew exactly who the responder was.

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric stated grimly. The roar of the dragon came again, followed by the sound of death. Again, Perseus swore he could hear words coming from the maw of the beast.

"We need to move! Now!" the rebel leader exclaimed. The huddle broke, as men headed upstairs but before the man who saved him was able to leave, Ulfric grabbed him by the shoulder before pointing at Perseus.

"Ralof, I need you to get him out of here. Not a scratch on the boy," Ulfric warned.

The Nord, Ralof, nodded. "Yes, my Jarl."

"Go, now!"

Perseus had held a death glare at the man until he was being ushered by Ralof. "Come on now, boy! We need to leave!"

He began backing up but his hate-filled eyes never left the Nord, who stared back with that same look he had before his scheduled execution. It was somber, regretful even. The hate only boiled more.

Perseus knew he had to tear himself away or else he might've tried something, and it was the worst possible time to make an attempt.

Breaking eye contact, he turned and ran away from his past for a second time.

**-o-O-o-**

_**8:36 A.M., 17th of Last Seed, 4E 204**_

_**Location: Helgen**_

Ralof didn't know why his Jarl wanted him to save the boy. Granted, he had already saved him once and he didn't mind doing it again, but he was one of those people who wanted to know the why behind the what.

The Nord did what he was told though and never question his Jarl. Still, he pressed forward nonetheless, but the question remained at the forefront of his mind: who exactly _was_ this kid?

The boy was keeping up for the most part, keeping a certain distance behind Ralof. Again, he didn't know why he was, but gauging from the way he glared threateningly at Ulfric, he probably didn't trust him and understandably so. Stormcloaks aren't the most popular people around.

They had almost made it to the top. Just a little further...

What happened next nearly sent him off his feet and down the stairs. It was almost like the wall had shot out from the side and crushed the men in front of them. The only thing that said otherwise was the black dragon's head poking in from the gaping hole that marred the structure.

The air around him was sucked away with a noise and the dragon's mouth opened wide with a orange light source in the back of its mouth. It didn't take a wizard to figure out what was coming.

"Gods... everyone get back!"

Ralof swore he melted at the sheer heat of the fire that came, despite having moved back from the dragon. He had to turn his head away in fear of losing his face at the very presence of the flame. What had felt like forever only lasted a couple of seconds as the flapping of wings sounded again and then nothing.

The Nord looked back up to see a gaping hole in the side of the tower and the staircase to the top was closed off by rubble.

_Damn..._

Peering out the breach, Ralof got a full spectacle of the chaos that ensued... and chaos was an understatement.

Helgen was a pit of fire. Nearly all of the buildings laid in ruin and ablaze in dragon fire. The pillars and wood that once stood strong in support had fallen completely, charred pitch black from the flames. The Imperial legionnaires were divided between trying to control the panicked civilians and taking on the beast, both efforts failing miserably.

_This is Oblivion on Nirn..._

He was snapped out of his gazing by the boy he was ordered to escort. "What do we do?"

His voice caught Ralof off guard. He had half expected it to be high-pitched and panicky. Instead, the boy did indeed have some bass and some calmness to his voice.

Focusing on his task, Ralof scanned his surroundings before his eyes landed on the roof of the inn. The majority of the roof was still ablaze but the part closest to them had collapsed completely, leaving a small opening to the second floor...

Grabbing the boy's shoulder, he pointed towards the inn. "See the opening?! Jump through there and keep going!"

"What about you?! Didn't the murderer tell you to "save" me?!" He shouted viciously. Yeah, there had to be something else going on between his leader and this boy that he wasn't aware of, but that was the least of his concerns. Ralof glanced back at the civilians and the wounded with him, knowing full well they couldn't make that jump. He wasn't sure what made him think that the boy could make the jump either though. He just... knew.

"These people can't follow you and you seem fairly capable! They need me more than you do!"

The breathing of fire caused both of their heads to snap in its direction. They needed to move.

"Go! I'll follow when I can!" Ralof shouted before ushering everyone back down the stairs, leaving the boy by himself.

**-o-O-o-**

_**8:59 A.M., 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**_

_**Location: Helgen**_

His first impressions of Ralof ranged from an good man to way too nice, in which he was more sure of the latter.

Of course, the Nord was just following orders so maybe Perseus was just thinking too much, like normal. Maybe Ralof didn't care. Maybe he did. It doesn't matter now. He would probably never see him again.

Leaping across to the inn, Perseus crashed hard into the wooden floor. Weakened by the fire, the floor gave in as he made impact, sending him down to the first floor.

He smacked the ground with a thud, his body bouncing once before resting on the ground. Groaning in pain, Perseus laid there for a moment before weakly pushing himself off the ground. He rested on his knees and as his body went upright, a numbing pain shot through his body, sending him back to the ground and hollering in agony.

Patting at his torso in a desperate attempt to find the puncture, he landed his hand just above his waist. Feeling the protrusion, Perseus grasped it firmly and pulled, but an even worse pain filled his senses, halting any attempt to remove the splinter of wood.

Deciding that removing it would do more harm than good, he got on his feet, gasping in pain but still managing to stay on his feet. More roars filled the air, causing him to move forward in a limp.

Coming out the ruined side of the building, the Nord-Imperial hobbled to the outside, seeing the same sight he had in the tower.

_We're doomed._

A voice cut through his thought process. "Hamming, get over here now!"

Looking towards the source, Perseus assumed it was the legionnaire beckoning towards a small child who stood in the streets. At the call, the child took steps towards him but the quaking of the ground paralyzed the young boy.

The whole group gawked at the cause of the quake. It was the dragon again and by the way it reared its head just then and the wind just shifted toward the beast's direction, fire was about to burn again and the little boy was directly in its path. Perseus wasn't the only one who saw it coming though.

"HAMMING, MOVE!"

The legionnaire leaped forward, grabbing the boy and slinging the both of them out of the road, just narrowly missing the dragon fire that followed. They crashed into the remains of a house with the legionnaire using his body to shield the boy from the impact.

Once the stream of fire halted and the dragon flew off to another part of the fortress, the legionnaire picked up the boy and moved back over to where Perseus and what appeared to be the boy's father stood.

Setting the boy down, he grabbed the older man's shoulder. "Get somewhere safe! I have to join in the defense!"

The old man returned the gesture. "Gods guide you, Hadvar..."

Before the legionnaire could sprint off, Perseus called out to him.

"Wait!" The legionnaire stopped and turned quickly towards the call. He ran up to him and flashed his code.

"Lord Aurelius! I-I had no id-"

Perseus waved it off. "Save it! There's no time! I'm coming with you!"

"Of course, my lord. Follow me!" Hadvar took off down the charred street and Perseus followed closely behind him. Banking left, they leaped over a pile a debris and into an alleyway. They didn't go too much further though.

Black talons slammed into the ground and halted their run. Crouching down, they couldn't help but stare at the massive beast that rested above them, breathing more fire down on what Perseus could assume was more people. It didn't stay long, taking off again with a flap of its wings that sent the pair on their butts.

Quickly recovering, Perseus ran ahead of the Nord legionnaire and into the burning house. It was fairly straightforward pathway, considering most of the rooms had been caved in.

He stepped outside the building and into the very thing he wanted to avoid.

The Legion was trying their best, but even that wasn't enough. Archers loosed arrows left and right towards the beast with none making their mark as it circled around the town, breathing plumes of fire down on them. It was far from a fair fight.

General Tullius stood in a stance, his blade at the ready. Even as an older man, his voice still carried well. His barking of orders reminded Perseus of that. There wasn't much that he could do though against that of a dragon.

He stood in a stance with his Imperial sword drawn and his eyes glued to the dragon. Seeing that his attention was solely on the flying beast, Perseus made a move to glide past him without any interaction, but Hadvar had other ideas.

"General Tullius! Lord Aurelius is here!"

The general turned in his direction, his eyes landing directly on Perseus. His reaction was appropriate.

"Perce, what the Oblivion are you doing here?! You should be back in the Imperial City! Are your parents here as well?!" Tullius' focus had changed in a instant, but the landing of the dragon nearby refocused him.

"Get down, NOW!"

More fire came their way, causing them to hit the ground hard and Perseus to receive a reminder that the wooden splinter was still in his side. Again, his senses went numb, but he could still feel the gust of wind that came from the dragon taking to the skies again. Shaking his head, he pushed himself up but ate the dirt again.

_I'm gonna die here..._

He felt his arms getting slung around two shoulders and his body being lifted into the air and dragged around before he felt himself being sat down and posted against stone. A firm hand grasped his shoulder and shook him lightly.

"Perseus, answer me! What are you doing here, of all places?!" Tullius shouted.

His senses had returned by then.

"To get away from it all..." Perseus muttered lowly in an attempt to hide his true answer from his uncle, but it was a failed attempt.

"To get away from what, Perce?!"

Standing up, Perseus shook his head and stated, "Now isn't the time! I'll find you later!"

Nodding his head in understanding, Tullius grabbed Hadvar, who had been standing guard for them. "Hadvar, protect my nephew at any cost! Take him through the keep and out the back! Do you understand?!"

"Yes, sir!"

With one last look, Tullius said to Perseus, "Stay strong!"

Perseus gave him a dark look that said otherwise, but no words came from his mouth. The only response he gave him was the one where he turned his back to him and ran after Hadvar.

The only thing between them and their destination was a plane of burning grass and a Stormcloak that Perseus was just recently familiar with.

"Ralof, you damn traitor! Out of our way!"

The blond Nord was ready. "We're escaping, Hadvar! I dare you to try and stop us!"

"Is that a challenge, traitor?!" Hadvar probed.

"It can be, you damn bootlicker!"

Perseus had enough. "Shut up! Both of you! There's a dragon killing all of us right now! Now isn't the time to fight!"

He didn't know why he spoke up or even care to, but he did know he couldn't take the idiocy and ignorance any longer. The two Nords looked at each other in spite for a moment before Hadvar spoke up.

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Before any of them could move though, the dragon came around for another pass. If it wasn't for the excessive inhaling of air and the clear pronunciation of words he couldn't understand, him and everyone around him would've been scorched.

"Get in the keep NOW!"

Ralof took off towards one entrance of the keep while Hadvar and Perseus booked it to the other one. He could feel the heat of the flame chasing after him, nipping at the back of his shoes to move faster. It worked to say the least.

Perseus slammed himself unintentionally into the door in an attempt to avoid the blaze. His eyes snapped shut in preparation of burning skin, but nothing came. Not even an ember grazed his skin. Opening his eyes, he saw the dragon bank right and rip clean through a portion of the keep, sending stone raining down on them.

"We need to get inside! Open the door, Hadvar!"

The Nord kept slamming his shoulder into the door, but to no avail. "It won't budge!"

"Hit it harder!" Perseus shouted before running to check the other entrance to the keep, only to see it blocked off by fallen stone. Underneath the stone, he saw Ralof with a leg pinned down by a pile. The Nord pushed desperately on the stones, only managing to push a couple off before his hands clutched his leg again, presumably in pain.

The smashing of wood grabbed his attention and Hadvar called to him.

"It's open! C'mon!"

Looking between the door and Ralof, Perseus hesitated. In his hesitation, he recalled one of his father's moral lessons that he had tried to instill in him as a young child. He was prone to pretend like he was listening more often than actually listen, but this lesson stuck with him for unknown reasons.

_"But why, Dad? Why can't we just be normal? Why do we have to help others?"_

_"It's not an option for us to help others, son. It's our obligation, our responsibility as men of the Aurelius family to do everything in our power to help others..."_

Sprinting over to the downed Nord, he called to Hadvar, "Give me a hand here!"

Hadvar didn't question. Frantically, they began tossing stones off the Stormcloak's injured leg.

"We have to hurry, Perseus! That dragon will come back soon!" Hadvar shouted.

"I know! We aren't leaving him here though!" Perseus responded fiercely, speeding up the process until the man's leg was free. Flanking each side of the man, they wrapped their arms around his shoulders and lifted.

Carrying the injured man to the door, they got halfway in before the collapsing of more stone stopped Perseus. Turning around, he gazed upon the scene from Oblivion and the dragon that had caused it.

The screams and shouts didn't cease as the Legion continued to hold off the dragon to the best of their ability, but even that had no effect. He scanned the area for some sense of hope, but all he saw was the charred corpses, the destroyed buildings, and the raging fire that didn't cease.

"Perseus, we need to go," Hadvar broke him out of his trance, causing Perseus to quickly glance at the Nord before looking back at the scene. Choppily stepping inside the keep, he closed the hatch with only a single thought in his mind.

_We're in trouble._

_**Author's Note:**_ Hey guys. How's it going? First off, I'd like to say thank you for taking time out of your day to read my new story, _The World Calling_. It is actually a revamp of my original project _The Beauty of Dawn: Nightfall_, in which you can check it out on my profile, but it is not necessary to read. Just something for you to check out if you want to see where I originally started to where I am now.

To give a brief rundown for those who don't feel like it, I wanted to tell the story of Perseus over just revamping the Dawnguard storyline and to do that, I have to start from the beginning.

So here it is.

Thank you again for reading. I pray you stick around for more and witness the adventure that I am about to bring you.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!

Follow, favorite, and review. Thanks again.

-Brad


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two: Digging Deep**_

_**9:13 A.M., 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**_

_**Location: Helgen Keep**_

Hadvar was confused by Perseus.

He had figured the man a loyalist to the Empire, and for the most part, he was right. He even had the military and council code of his family on his identification to back it up and the Aurelius family was probably one of the most, if not the most, influential and powerful families in the present day Empire. Someone with connections such as those wouldn't be rid of them so easily, especially over a wannabe rebellion...

So only one question bugged him: _why_ did they just save a Stormcloak?

Ralof was still hoisted on his and Perseus' shoulders as they made their way into the keep. Breaking off from the other two, Hadvar made his way to the door.

"Set him in one of those chairs. I'm getting the door," Perseus did as the legionnaire said, easing him down in a wooden chair and groaning at the same time.

Hadvar pushed the door closed and gave it a quick shove to secure it. Focusing his attention on Perseus, he got what he was thinking off his chest.

"So tell me why in Oblivion we rescued this damn traitor? He was getting what a rebel deserved, maybe more so if you ask me, so why didn't we leave him to his fate that the gods-"

"Because he isn't the enemy. That dragon is," Perseus stated.

"I know, but it's trea-"

The man in question narrowed his eyes at him in a glare. "If you even finish that sentence, I will end you. Understood?"

Hadvar gulped. He didn't see this coming. "Yes, my Lord."

"And drop the 'Lord' thing. I don't care for it."

"As you wish."

And that was the end of that. Hadvar didn't know what had just happened. He felt as though he was confident enough to persuade him to end the injured Stormcloak, but before he could've even began to debate his perspective on the situation, he was shut down. It only peaked his curiosity of the man more.

"Can you move, Ralof?" He heard Perseus inquire.

"No... gah, I think my leg is broken," the Nord groaned out, the pain bluntly evident in his voice. Perseus crouched down to eye level with him, but ended up falling back on his knees and Hadvar saw why. A decent size piece of wood stayed lodged in the man's hip, where blood continued to pour at a slow but steady rate. Perseus acted like it wasn't even there. His focus was completely on Ralof's leg.

"We could make a splint out of some of the chests in here," Hadvar piped up. "Break off the planks and wrap them with some linen. It's not like we're going to need them."

Perseus hummed to himself. "Yeah, that could work. Let's make it happen."

Before he could even stand on his own two feet, however, he was back down on his knees and groaning in pain. He couldn't avoid it any longer.

"What in the gods' name..."

Just when Hadvar began to understand Perseus, he was confused again before it became obvious to him.

"You've... never been injured, have you...?" Hadvar questioned carefully.

With a groan, the man replied, "What gave it away? My in... my inability to tolerate a small hole in my side...?"

The legionnaire began putting it together. "So if you haven't been injured, then it is probably safe to say you've never been in a real fight... right?"

"Yes, but I know how to handle myself."

Hadvar didn't believe him. Knowing how to swing a blade was vastly different from knowing how to fight. Their odds of surviving just took a plunge.

"Fine, but you can't fight like that. Wait here."

It took no time to gather the supplies necessary. It seemed that they had stumbled through the barracks entrance to the keep, in which there had been an abundance of the items they needed.

_We got lucky..._

Grabbing the rolls of linen from one of the shelves nearby, he made his way to the nearest chest and kicked in two of the planks, breaking them off.

Jogging over to Perseus, the Nord set down the supplies gathered on the table nearby. "All right. I won't lie to you. This is going to hurt, so brace yourself."

"I figured as- gah!" Hadvar quickly move to stop the blood pouring from the reopened wound as Perseus attempted to control his breathing, which has turned to a hybrid of gasping and wheezing. He chuckled a little to himself.

"You're definitely an Imperial if this hurts you that bad," the legionnaire joked. Apparently, he had ruffled some feathers with that comment.

"My mother was a Nord so you can shove it," Perseus retaliated. The man was starting to make more sense to him. It explained the stormy blue eyes he possessed. He decided to delve deeper and find out what he could. The Aurelius family was a surpringly mysterious family for having such a prestigious name.

"Is that right?" He asked in a curious manner as he tied the knot of the wrap.

His expression turned cold and his voice took a darker tone. "Yeah... She's fairly well known in the Nord community too. Ever heard of Aisha Heart-Slayer?"

Hadvar was moving over to Ralof to assemble his splint when he stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't help but widen his eyes. Turning to Perseus, he asked incredulously, "Really? _The _Aisha Heart-Slayer?"

Standing up slowly, Perseus nodded his head, his face expressing his still evident pain. "Yeah... agh, some reputation to live up to, right?"

Hadvar stared at him for a minute in shock. Heart-Slayer's reputation and story was one known to every Nord that walked Tamriel. It was almost a timeless classic if it wasn't such a recent event.

Still in shock from the new information, Hadvar squatted down in front of Ralof but never took his eyes off of Perseus, who wore a blank face. "Do you even know what she did to earn that title...?"

The blank face stayed. As Hadvar began tending to the Stormcloak, he took the lack of reaction as a "no". Using his first impressions of the guy, he made a judgment call and decided to continue.

"Your mother is a hero to the Nordic people. During the Markarth Incident, she had slain seven Briarhearts with only her two hands and her courage. I had a couple of old friends there who saw the whole thing. They said she moved faster than they had seen anyone in their lives..."

Ralof decided to pipe in. "And saved a lot of people doing so. Those Briarhearts would've cut them down without a second thought."

The legionnaire secured the splint. "Right. Ulfric may have lead the militia, but she was just as much a leader of it alongside-"

He didn't know what happened next. Only that his back was slammed into a wall and a forearm was planted firmly against his throat.

Hadvar desperately clawed at Perseus's arm and hopelessly kicked out, but a blade to his abdomen stopped any movement. It was then he realized that there was no pressure pressed against his throat. In fact, there was nothing really holding him from countering except the point of the Nord-Imperial's sword.

His eyes met Perseus's and it wasn't like anything he had seen. He had seen darkness in many of his enemies' eyes and he had fought a lot of enemies in his time with the Legion. Although none matched up to the abundance that resided in those eyes.

Hate and anger. Pure and relinquished hate and anger were the only things that comprised of his soul and the man did nothing to hide it. That wasn't it though. He couldn't even begin to process what all he saw in his eyes and that unnerved him to the core. He didn't know what to expect from the man.

"I know the story and I know who else was involved! It doesn't mean I want to hear it again, so shut up! Do you understand me!?"

He stuttered on his words.

"Do. You. Understand. Me?"

"Y-Yes," Hadvar agreed shakenly. He knew he had crossed the line and wasn't about to push the guy. He felt the tip of the blade fall and the man's forearm return to his side. Sheathing his blade, Perseus turn his back on the legionnaire.

"Good..."

The man looked at Ralof. "Can you walk?"

The Stormcloak stood himself up, using the table as a prop. "Barely, but I can make it..."

Perseus turned his attention back on him. "Are you gonna keep your mouth shut unless it's something important?"

The legionnaire recomposed himself the best he could before responding.

"Yes..."

He stared at him for a minute, probably in disbelief, before nodding his head. "Well... lead the way."

**-o-O-o-**

_**9:23 A.M., 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**_

_**Location: Helgen Keep**_

It took Perseus a lot longer than it should have to gain a cool head.

He hadn't even wanted to threaten the Nord. There wasn't a bone in his body that really wanted to do anything, so the question was: why did he do what he did?

The Nord-Imperial pondered the thought as he walked behind Hadvar and in front of Ralof, the former with his sword drawn in one hand and a torch in the other while the latter limped to the best of his ability.

The keep was quiet for the most part, sans for the roar of the flying beast that would occasionally echo through, reminding them that it's still there and still razing the place to the ground. It was a good enough motivation, to say the least, for all three of them to keep moving.

"If we can get to the storage room, we can get you two some potions," He turned to Ralof. "It won't fix your leg, but it will help the pain."

"And maybe move a little faster," Perseus muttered to himself. Tremors rocked the entire keep, nearly threatening to take the structure down. He could only assume it was the dragon.

"That dragon isn't letting up... it wasn't attacking the keep like this earlier. Why now?" Hadvar had a point. It was suspicious for a supposedly wild dragon to begin targeting a building. It was even more suspicious for it to do so immediately after they had made the keep their shelter. And the way that monster had looked at him like he was chicken...

The group turned the corner into a long hallway with a door to their left. Barely any light illuminated the hallway. The only source came from the end, where a small torch shown the shadows of a group of legionnaires with the captain from earlier in the lead.

They moved behind the corner before Hadvar could call out to them. Whatever he tried to say to them fell short anyway as the ceiling before them came crashing down, blocking the hallway off.

"Damn!" Hadvar cursed. As the dust settled, it became clear that they weren't going out that way. Piles of fallen stone too large for anyone to move laid in their path.

"No matter. The storage area is just through this door. C'mon," the legionnaire beckoned as he opened the door. Perseus followed suit, throwing Ralof's arm around his shoulder in order to speed things along.

Passing through the portal, the Nord-Imperial inspected the room, which appeared as thought it had already been swept and cleaned. The multitude of shelves, believed to be stocked with appealing food and quenching drinks, were barren with only the dust sitting placidly on the wood. It felt like a punch in the gut.

"There's nothing here," Ralof bit out as Perseus rested the injured Nord in a nearby chair. A frown naturally set upon the Aurelius' face before his disappointed eyes turned to the legionnaire.

"He's right. Nothing out in the open anyway," his voice trailed. Hadvar caught on to the hidden meaning behind his words where Ralof didn't.

"What do you mean?"

Hadvar marched further into the storage room and towards a stack of barrels that rested on the far side. "The group ahead of us might've not checked inside the drawers or barrels."

Perseus jogged over the nearby shelves and began pulling out every drawer, emptying them out before tossing them to the gravel. The only fruits of his efforts included a small blue vial.

"Magicka potion... could come in handy," Perseus mumbled as he stashed it in his knapsack.

"Perseus, over here!"

He quickly joined the Nord. "What is it?"

Hadvar held out his palm, revealing the item they sought after. A smile broke across Perseus' dirtied face.

"Great. This will speed things along quite nicely," he swept the vial from the legionnaire's palm, turning on his heel. With that, Perseus grabbed the blond Nord's hand and slapped the potion in his hand.

"Drink up. You should feel a little better," Ralof did as the Aurelius instructed, wasting no time to down the bittersweet potion. Tossing the vial down, the Stormcloak coughed violently with his hand clutched at his abdomen.

"Damn. I forgot how bad a healing potion tasted," Ralof gagged. Perseus stay crouched in front of the man until he had finished his fit before he spoke.

"Feeling better?"

Clearing his throat, Ralof muttered, "Ye-yeah. A lot."

Patting the Nord on the shoulder, Perseus stood. "Good."

The Aurelius watched as he pushed himself gently off the chair, placing his good leg down and hovering his broken one a mere inch off the ground. Palm against the wall, he methodically eased his foot down to make contact with the stone floor.

Something came to Perseus' mind, catching him slightly off guard. He had broken a vow of his.

In order to disappear completely, he promised to erase who he used to be, but here he was, making sure this Nord, a traitor nonetheless, was going to be alright. Hell, he had even forgotten about masking his identity. Now Ulfric, Tullius, a Stormcloak, and a couple of legionnaires knew of his displacement to Skyrim.

_So much for staying low-key..._

"It's not hurting bad, but it's still there. I can manage, but don't expect me to fight," the Stormcloak replied, taking baby steps forward in tolerance. Perseus nodded in disbelief, but accepted his word all the same. As Perseus downed a potion for his still injured side, Hadvar shouted to them.

"We got a couple of extras just in case, so let us know."

It was almost snarky the way Ralof spoke to the legionnaire. "Thank you, friend."

The burly Nord glanced back at him, distaste shining bright in his eyes. "Are you done, because in case you haven't noticed, there's a dragon trying to get inside this keep and I'm sure the last thing you want to do is make more enemies than you already have?!"

The crippled Stormcloak drug his foot along in a mad attempt to get in Hadvar's face. "If your damn Legion fought harder all those years ago, I would have a lot less enemies! It's your fault tha-"

Stone trembled all around them, dust from the structures filling the air. A brutal reminder of what was trying to break its way inside.

Perseus stepped up between the two, the ringing of steel filling the room before he stuck his sword just between the feuding Nords. "Settle this later. We need to get out of here first."

The anger-filled eyes of Hadvar met the unnerved eyes of Perseus. He thought for a moment the legionnaire would lash out like a normal Nord would, but nothing came his way. It seemed the Legion had taught him well enough.

With a sigh, he turned on his heel. "You're right... we need to get moving."

The Aurelius stepped sharply in front of Ralof, exaggerating his step to make his point known towards the enraged Stormcloak. He didn't care if it got the blond Nord a little huffy. Those two could duke it out afterwards for all he cared, but with more people on his side, the better his chances were of getting out of here alive.

_Even though Ralof probably won't make it..._

He shook his head swiftly. That didn't matter. Nothing else did except getting to Windhelm. He had to constantly remind himself of that should he ever get second thoughts.

There was so much that could go wrong with his plan, yet so much that could go right. If he got to Windhelm, his new life would begin in earnest. The problem was he didn't have the slightest idea where the city was.

_One thing at a time._

Shifting his grip on his sword, he refocused himself. That group in front of them would more than likely be moving slower than they were due to their size, which created a problem. The three men would eventually catch up with them and since their group was led by that damned captain, Perseus doubted they would favor them bringing a Stormcloak along.

A set of downward stairs came into his sights. The soft and flickering glow of a flame illuminated the bottom of the stairs, casting the shadow of a steel spiked cage across the rubble ridden floor.

"The torture room... gods, I wish we didn't need these," Hadvar spoke bitterly in a low tone. The snicker from behind spoke for the Nord-Imperial, but also against him. He knew exactly what went on in an Imperial torture room. He had lost count how many times his father had brought him to the ones in the Imperial City. It never sat well for either of them, but they knew sometimes they were a necessary evil.

The cackling of lightning broke his thoughts in a snap.

"Shor's bones, I hate mages," Perseus muttered.

"You and me both," Hadvar spoke, glancing back at their charge. "I doubt they are going to take our wounded friend here very well so just let me do the talking. Ralof, stay behind the wall... for all our sakes."

The Stormcloak huffed in reluctant acceptance as he finally rejoined them.

"Is that a problem?" Hadvar just had to add on.

"It will be if you mess this up," was Ralof's curt reply.

"Hadvar, let's go," Perseus pushed. They stepped around the corner simultaneously, taking in the scene.

It was the stereotypical torture room. Iron cages lined the left wall, all containing at least four Stormcloaks and a fallen mage, garbed in typical mages . Their bodies laid inept, devoid of life. It was obvious what had occurred here. To their right was an armory of sorts, carrying various light and heavy weaponry. What caught Perseus' eye though was a shield, something he would probably need here soon in case all goes up in smoke.

A man in light Imperial armor stood in front of one of the cages. HIs hood concealed his head from view and his hands held miniature storms of lightning.

_There's our mage... probably the torturer too..._

Flanking the torturer was presumably his assistant, who stood tall and considerably stocky for an Imperial. Other than that, he seemed to be the usual Imperial legionnaire who wielded a mace.

"That last little traitor didn't last long at all... although, he did take his death better than the bigger men. Sad, really. Pathetic, nonetheless," the torturer stated coldly, almost pleasantly. The lightning in his palms vanished, only leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.

The legionnaire was the first to take notice of the two men walking towards them. A deep, throaty voice spoke up. "Hadvar, what's going on out there? We keep getting trembles in here!"

Sheathing his blade, the Nord legionnaire approached his brother in arms until he was just within arms reach before they grasped each others forearms in camaraderie. Perseus kept his blade out for good measure.

"The Tribune's group didn't tell you?" Hadvar questioned.

"They ran past before we could even question them. Didn't even look back or speak."

"There's a dragon attacking the keep. You two need to get out now," Hadvar barked urgently, casting chain of command out the window.

Perseus looked on, baffled by Hadvar's blunt approach. Unless the ranks changed without him knowing, torturers typically held officer ranks, even though they aren't often referred to by their actual rank. It was more of a placeholder more than anything. Their assistants, however, were actual warfighting legionnaires and held the rank of quaestor.

The Aurelius suspected Hadvar's rank was the same, so barking at the torturer like that was by the book insubordination and the torturer was having none of it.

"You don't have the authority to order me around, Quaestor. I'd suggest you learn your place before you join these poor souls," the torturer spat in distate, pointing to the deceased men in the cages.

"I'm sorry, sir, but didn't you hear what I said? A _dragon_ is attacking the keep!"

"Dragons have been dead for centuries. I doubt they're back now... although, it would explain all the noises and rumbling that has been disturbing my work," the torturer pondered the thought. Perseus was losing his patience. They were wasting time here.

"Forget the old man. I'm coming with-"

A shout of pain from behind them caught them off-guard, causing everyone to pull an one-eighty. Perseus' eyes widened in fear.

_Shor's bones..._

Lying on the ground and clutching his leg was Ralof, flanked by two more legionnaires who roughly grabbed him by his arms, hauled him up and casted him in front of the torturer's feet. "Sir, we found this coward eavesdropping on your conversation behind the wall. He's all yours."

The Aurelius shared a feared look with Hadvar, who glanced at him with a similar, yet less severe expression, before he looked back on the scene.

"Very well. You two are dismissed," the torturer responded with a sick grin plastered on his wrinkled face. The two legionnaires slammed their fist to their chests with a loud thud before sprinting past Perseus and Hadvar through the hallway behind them.

"Now what sort of pain should I inflict on you before I send you to whatever plain of Oblivion, I wonder..." While the torturer expanded his ego further, Perseus eyed the shield he spotted earlier and treaded slowly as if he was walking on ice towards the item.

Gently lifting the shield from its resting place, he slid his arm through the leather bands on the underside of the shield and grasped it firmly. Swing his arm back and forth, he began getting a feel for the shield. It was light and composed of simple iron and wood, but it would do the job.

Resting his shield arm by his side, Perseus bounced his blade in his palm in anticipation. He slowly rejoined Hadvar and shared a apologetic glance with the legionnaire. Funny thing was that Hadvar looked at him with a similar look before he eased his sword from his sheath to avoid the usual ring of a blade.

"I'll get the assistant. You get the torturer. Make this easier for the both of us," Perseus whispered in cold compassion.

Hadvar gave him an incredulous look. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Look, I know it's treason. I'm in the same situation as you, but he won't make it out of here unless we do something," Perseus reasoned. Hadvar wanted more than that though.

"Why? What makes his life more important that theirs?"

A pause. "It's not that. He's one of Ulfric's lieutenants and could have valuable information that could help, but if they kill him, that information is gone. That information could turn the tide of the war and possibly win it for the Legion. Do you want that?"

Now it was Hadvar's turn to pause and think. Perseus stared at him for what felt like hours until he got an answer.

"I understand where you are coming from, but can we at least try reasoning with them first?"

Perseus groaned light enough for the legionnaire to miss his noise of annoyance. "Go ahead."

Hadvar stepped forward. The Aurelius shook his head in disapproval. He admired his nobility and effort to make some peace, but this wasn't a time for that. Those men wouldn't hesitate to strike them down if they discovered their association with the rebel.

"Ser, if I may?" Hadvar asked. The torturer gave him a look before nodding. "I saw him talking with Ulfric just before the attack. He may know something. Let me take him out of here and get him to Solitude for interrogation. It's not safe here," Hadvar spoke, putting every ounce of confidence in his proposal.

A hum escaped from the torturer's lips and a pause followed. "Am I supposed to just take your word that a dragon, a mythical creature that only exists in stories and fairytales, is attacking the keep and that this pathetic-looking Stormcloak, in usual Stormcloak attire and shows no evidence, is one of Ulfric's lieutenants?"

Drawing his steel dagger, the torturer faced him as sparks cackled to life in his empty palm. "If I am supposed to believe all of that, I'd say I could believe you being a damned rebel in our armor."

"Hold on, ser. He's one of-" The assistant was cut off.

"Silence!" the torturer barked, waving his dagger in the legionnaire's direction and ending any protest. Hadvar had no words, causing Perseus pinched the bridge of his nose. The torturer was right. They had no evidence saying otherwise and unless Hadvar retaliated, they were about to be made.

_No choice now..._

The Aurelius took the moment to make his presence known and stepped up. "What he says is true. I was there."

The dagger was now pointed in his direction. "And who do you think you are?"

"I _know_ I am Perseus Aurelius, son of General and Councilman Crassus Aurelius, and that you are out of line speaking to me in such a manner..."

His face was mere inches from the old man's as he towered over him. "… so I'd suggest you best fix yourself, _Auxiliary._"

It was a standoff no longer when the torturer withdrew his dagger and retreated backward in order to drop to his knees. No question came from the old man. He had broken through his confident front. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I had no id-"

"Get up. We're leaving with him and you are not stopping us. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," he stated, standing clear of the Aurelius. Perseus sharply nodded at Hadvar, who took the hint. After the legionnaire had slung Ralof over his shoulder, he made his way behind Perseus and into the passage. The Nord-Imperial turned to follow them but halted his motion in mid-step.

"Oh, and I am here on important and _secret _business on behalf of the Empire so if you even spread word that I am here in Skyrim, I will erase your very existence from the face of Nirn. Clear?"

"Crystal, my Lord," the torturer replied, his head bowed in respect. With a nod, Perseus turned his attention to the other legionnaire in the room.

"The same applies to you, Quaestor. Clear?"

It took the Imperial a moment before it registered who the Aurelius was speaking to. "Y-Yes, my Lord."

Without sparing another glance, Perseus turned on his heel and left the men in his wake. He rejoined the two men, Ralof still slung over the shoulders of Hadvar. The Aurelius stared at him for a moment before the legionnaire took notice.

"We can move faster this way. Besides, it appears we are in your debt so I am considering this even," Hadvar spoke. Perseus' eyes narrowed.

"No. Not even close. I came to Skyrim with the intention of not revealing my true identity and fading from the world, out of sight and out of mind, but already I have had to reveal my identity on multiple occasions. Most of them are probably dead already and I'm sure that torturer and his dog will follow soon, so all that leaves is you two," he paused, pointing his finger towards the both of them.

"If I lacked a shred of morality, you two would be dead already, but I am trusting you not to disclose my presence here, so to make things even, you will not say a word of my existence here when we make it out... _if_ we make it out. Clear?" He had surprised himself. He didn't know he could speak with such ferocity as he just did.

The men nodded to the best of their ability. "Yes." - "Aye."

"Good. Let's go," Perseus ordered, stepping it out through the hallway with Hadvar and Ralof in tow.

It seemed they had entered the dungeons area of the keep, seeing the iron cages hanging from the ceiling and the cells that were embedded within the stone walls. Every now and then there would be a corpse or skeleton resting inept in their confinements, intensifying the stink of the dead and burning even more so.

"The torturers the Legion puts forth are ruthless and uncaring... and apparently do not care for respecting the dead. There's no telling how long those corpses have been there," Hadvar piped up nasally. Looking back at the Nord, the Aurelius saw only his eyes. His mouth and nose were cupped by his only free hand.

His reaction was understandable, but there were more things at stake than just their lack of comfort. The voices that echoed ahead of them served as a reminder of such.

"It's the Tribune again..." Hadvar murmured. "Perseus, if she sees the Stormcloak in our company, she will surely turn her blades on us. We will be in for a fight and I'm not sure if we can handle all of them..."

Perseus took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to be optimistic about this, he couldn't deny the odds against them.

"Then we'll die trying."

Moving into the open area, they sent their prayers to the gods above.

_**Author's Note:**_ Here's the next chapter and thank God I managed to get it out. Adjusting to college took a huge chunk out of my time and by the time break was here, I was too exhausted to do much of anything...

That and Dragon Age: Inquisition. That game is the most addictive game I've ever played in the history of ever.

But my break did bring forth fruits for this story. I have it all planned out and it's gonna turn into a saga. There's just so much I want to put into this story and that's gonna take time, but it will happen. Trust me.

I apologize for the tardiness of this chapter. I wanted to finish off the Unbound section in two chapters but it's ended up three. I get a wee bit carried away writing. I'm starting on three now.

**A special thanks to these individuals for following, favoring, and reviewing my story: Darknight48, Ralince, Sonicman66, WolfFang1011, theta117, Perpetual Dreaming**

Remember to follow, favorite, and review! Thanks again!

-Brad

_**Review Responses**_

_Perpetual Dreaming: _Thank you! That's what I was going for when I first started writing this Perseus. He's in the process of changing after being put through a traumatic experience. He's a damaged guy, for reasons that will be revealed later. His motives and actions are unknown, even to himself. Stay tuned.


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